


Unconscious of Intentional Error

by meghanisadweeb (orphan_account)



Series: Washette+Martha Petplay 'Verse [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: BDSM, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, F/M, M/M, Master/Pet, Monsieur and Madame instead of Master and Mistress because Y I K E S, Verbal Humiliation, this is really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 04:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/meghanisadweeb
Summary: Lafayette acts out. Author tears her hair out because Canon era is hard. Word etymology is ignored.





	Unconscious of Intentional Error

    Lafayette’s knees feel like they’ve been set on fire, he’s been kneeling here for so, so long. But His Excellency had ordered for him to remain still and allow himself to be used as a footstool, and he could not bring himself to disobey if he needed to for his health. The legs rested on his shoulders fall, and a hand is in his hair. Thick, warm fingers petting the strands. He whines and leans up into it.

 

    “Oh, good boy. We have the best pet in all the land, do we not?” Washington murmurs, looking over at his wife. She nods, tilting her head a little. 

 

    “Our Gilbert is a very good boy, indeed.” Martha’s hand, long-fingered and slender, joins her husband’s. Her other lifts his chin. Her eyes are warm, sweet.

 

    The entire thing is almost too much for him to handle. The kindness, directly following such torment - he just might sob. “Monsieur, Madame, I-” He stammers, cheeks flushed red and tears in his eyes.

 

    “Don’t hold back your tears, pet. You look ever so lovely when you cry.” Washington pats his head, perhaps a bit condescendingly, and smiles. Lafayette all but becomes a pool of tears, wailing like an infant. Now that he’s been given permission to cry, he takes the opportunity to sob the weight off of his chest. 

 

    “You’ve been very good for George and I. I do believe that you have earned a treat for yourself.” Madame Washington’s hand cards through his sweaty hair, and he cannot help but cry harder at that.

 

    “Open up, puppy.” Washington's orders are simple. He frees his cock, already hard, from his breeches. Lafayette swallows it down, eager, hungry. He loves giving His Excellency pleasure, even when he gets no stimulation in return. The hands continue in his hair, stroking gently. Then Washington pulled his head back and came on his face. He wants to lick his lips, taste his Master, but he’s not been given permission. He allows himself to close his eyes, though, and smile.

 

    “ _ Merci _ ,  _ Monsieur _ .” He says through his grin, rutting a little bit on the flooring. That earns him a slap on the nose.

 

    “You should know better than that, Gilbert. Me nor George speak but the most basic of French, and while we may have both understood your meaning, that exemplifies a rather long-running pattern of behavior that could be problematic if gone uncorrected.” Martha's hands stop working through his hair, and he can't help but miss them. He quite enjoyed being pet.

 

    “Of course, Madame. I offer my sincerest apologies… I forgot my place.” 

 

     “I'm sorry, George, did you hear something? I think that your dog may had been trying to speak. Silly little thing, is he not?” 

 

    Oh no. He will not be ignored. He's followed the majority of his rules, been obedient and submissive and apparently quite pretty. He yowls like a hound that's been caught in some trap. His Excellency merely laughs. 

 

    “Oh, silly indeed. I love dogs so much. Quite entertaining.” Washington wipes a fabricated tear of mirth from his eye. Lafayette burns. He cast his head down. He can hardly bear to even look at Monsieur and Madame. He's but a silly pup, thinking with his cock and having no regard for propriety. 

 

    “When we are speaking of your missteps, you will do well to look at us, Gilbert.” Martha spits his name out like a curse. He wants to keep crying, to lie on the floor and wallow in their cruel words, but he's not allowed. He sniffles and meets their eyes.

 

    “I do believe that a good hide tanning might be the best course of action to correct our naughty, insolent little pup. It wouldn't be the first time that he's received the strap, would it?” She continues, and sharply tugs his curls. He hates the strap. The threat alone is usually enough to persuade him into obedience, but the damage has been done. He winces just thinking about the pain.

 

   “Retrieve the strap, Gilbert. Quickly, or else I might get a bit careless in my counting.” His Excellency grinds his boot into Lafayette's thigh, who yelps and crawls away as fast as his strained legs can carry him. He places the strap in his mouth and returns to Madame and Monsieur, who both look quite impatient. 

 

    “Good pup. Take a second to yourself, steady your breathing.” With Madame’s permission, he releases the leather between his teeth and pants rather loudly. He tries to remind himself that he's earned this, that his own choices brought him to this point. 

 

    “Are you ready to receive your punishment? Speak, boy.” Monsieur raises his chin with a finger.

 

    “Yes, sir, please, sir.”

  
    “Over my knee, Gilbert. Spread your legs just a bit - There we are. How sweet you look, bent over and flushed in such a way. From the red of your cheeks to the blushing pink of your hole. Quite a wonderful sight to admire.” Monsieur adjusts him slightly, all the while Lafayette glows under the praise. The strap comes down once, sending a searing pain through his body.

 

     "One."

**Author's Note:**

> BTW, "footstool" wasn't around until way after this fic takes place.


End file.
